


Grin

by OverSloth



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 03:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1883796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverSloth/pseuds/OverSloth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes we say a little bit more than we mean to, and that can be both as good and bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grin

She was not expecting it when it came, but it did. She could not remember what the conversation was about, since it was all forgotten when she received the reply.

“That’s because everything you love hates you,” cackled her companion.

They sat across from each other: she with both her legs dangling off the arm of the cheap futon were she laid, a pillow on her lap, with her not-so-endearing company on the abused beanbag chair on the other side of the room.

Historia looked pissed, brows furrowed in the middle of her forehead as she turned her head away.

“Fuck you” she finally said after her long silence, which only made the taller woman in front of her laugh harder. Historia started to leave, picking up the pillow from her lap as she turned on the futon to get up from her seat, her feet immediately finding the cheap slippers on the floor. Looking at the still-grinning face in front of her, she thought better of it and instead prepared to attack.

Ymir finally reached silence when that same pillow came flying straight for her face. She was prepared for it, as she caught it with precision, ready to throw it back to it’s pitcher. What she was not prepared for, however, were the arms that came in her direction, or the body that she accidentally stopped in it’s tracks as Historia’s face made contact with the pillow.

“Oops, sorry” said Ymir, realizing her mistake as she made sure Historia’s body was balanced again. Once that happened, she took the pillow away, revealing a very frustrated expression from underneath it.

Historia sighed. She let herself fall as she spun on her feet to sit on the beanbag between Ymir’s legs. Tanned arms immediately circled her waist, as a strong jaw found its place on her shoulder. She let out a small smile as one of her hands strokes the dark hair poking her cheek.

“I’m not mad, you know?” she said after a small while, the fingers on her other hand playing with the strands stubbornly trying to hold the hole on Ymir’s jeans from getting any wider.

Ymir rubbed her cheek on Historia’s as gently as she could. She was a brute most of the time, uncouth, a terrible bother to everyone around her, but never as much when it came down to the small blond on her arms. For it was for Historia that she seemed to save all her softness. She wondered when it all started, really. She wondered if her girl even had noticed the difference.

Her girl.

The term itself had to be foreign to the blond’s ears, as Ymir only referred to her like this inside her own head.

It didn’t matter that they have been walking side by side for months. That they went into gatherings that could loosely be considered as dates by normal standards. That they found time between stolen liquor sips in parks past midnight and stupid skateboard falling (which Ymir categorized as “learning tricks” and Historia categorized as “losing kneecaps”) to make out or cuddle as they were doing now.

But Ymir never considered calling her that to her face.

Actually, they never even referred to the other as nothing that wasn’t their own respective names.

There was never a discussion between the two, no words to classify what they were doing, or how they felt; what they shared was ever uttered. Even when Ymir learned it all about the smaller girl’s real name (that only she was allowed to call her by when between the two of them) and the whole story behind it, nothing was said in regards to how they treated each other—and they have always been fine like that.

“What did you say?”

Well, until right now, anyway.

“Uh… what?”

“You know what.” The hand left her hair, Historia’s head turning to try and look at her eyes. “You just called me something.”

Ymir shifted her face, moving away from the paler one, her unbound breasts under the silly shirt she wore not longer in contact with the small frame in her arms as she moved backwards.

“I didn’t…”

A tiny slap hit her thigh.

“You can’t lie, Ymir.”

The small pale hands moved into hers, both thumbs drawing circles on her knuckles.

“I’m not lying, I just… did I really say it out loud?”

Historia laid her body back to press against Ymir’s front. She tightened her hold on the tanned hands, finding space between the long fingers to interlace them with hers.

“Yes”, she said meekly, her voice rough as if she hadn’t said a single thing for years. She was partially happy that her lover (if she could ever call her that, but until this moment there was no better word Historia could have thought of) could not see the blush covering her face.

Ymir nudged her ear with her nose, a caress she tended to give both to calm herself and the small girl that she held close, their heartbeats thundering together in the same fast pace.

She waited until she was sure there was no danger of herself falling into a panic attack.

“It’s just how I refer to you… in my head”

There was another pause. In terms of time, no longer than a beat, but to Ymir’s ears, it may have lasted a small eternity.

“I like it.”

She was so lost in her tension, she almost did not hear it.

“I’m sorry, what?”

A kiss made it’s way to her cheek, the very next words coming out with a smile.

“I like it. The way you call me in your head.”

And just like that, that silly grin spread to her face once more.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to AudioAnon for beta-ing this mess to a more coherent one.


End file.
